The Roids

I took my last handful of Prednisone this morning. I am so hoping I never have to take another handful again. I hate that stuff so much. Tastes nasty, have to butter it to get it to go down and it makes me feel like an invalid with a couple of horses galloping around in my chest. And I hate everything and everyone most of the time I am on it.

David and I and Jackson went to the outlet mall to look at plates this morning. But it was not a very successful trip. I couldn't keep up. Could barely keep moving and wished for a wheelchair. We looked at the Corelle store and at Faberware. Saw a few interesting things. But had to cut it short and come home, since chemo-prednisone girl was too much of a slow poke.

And I was rude to a saleslady at Faberware. I was feeling so crappy and this lady comes up in full sales mode too close to me and starts chirping at us. "Can I help you with anything?" I deadpanned, "No." She left us alone after that. But I felt bad. You aren't supposed to be mean to sales ladies. But geez, it was the outlet mall; a kitchen store with plates and pans and gadgets. I am sure she isn't working on commission. Why would we need super sales assistance at Faberware? Ug. Now I am justifying being mean to her. So I will stop. I was not friendly. I will blame the prednisone.

When we got home, I slept for about an hour and felt better. Not great, but better. We are going to Mary's later, after the boys are done napping for a pre-thanksgiving feast. I maybe an invalid, but there is no reason I can't go eat and hang out. Should be fun to visit with Mary and Dad and meet Mary's family. Hopefully I will be fit company. I have just been on the phone with Elaine and she has diagnosed me with Roid Rage. Sounds about right.

Tomorrow, no more steroids. Hip Hip Hooray!